Control
by BrownEyedDevil
Summary: Logan has been gone for five years and a lot has changed. Especially a certain kid. Logan's POV, set after X3 Rated T for language-rating might change in the course of this story
1. Bars and Clubs

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. If I did, I wouldn't write this. I'd do other things :P**

**A/N: My resolve crumbled faster than an old cookie. I wasn't going to write anything. Then a songfic for a challenge JohnPaulGeorgeandRingo started for her "I Heart Rogan" community. And suddenly I found my head almost exploding with ideas. Not that I really mind. Anyway, here goes. **

**This does contain language because neither Logan nor I can go a day without it. And I have no clue where this is heading, so get in, put your seatbelt on and enjoy the ride.**

**I would also like to thank all the writers that have written such great stories that inspired me, you know who you are, you received rambling reviews from a chick with my name :P And JohnPaulGeorgeandRingo-one day we will act on our plans. A funfilled night with booze, kidnapping, safe cracking and quite possibly karaoke.^^  
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This has got to be the dingiest mudhole I have ever been to. And I have seen some very foul places. Bars where you feel tempted to order a whole bottle of Whisky because the glasses are covered in dust and something...slimy until the bartender gives them a once over with the filthy rag half stuffed into his pocket, the same rag he probably uses to casually mop up vomit and blood from the floor.

That's what Ed, all bartenders are either Ed or Joe and this one looks like Ed, just did. Some guys were fighting over the tab, one guy broke his friends nose, bartender got out a shotgun, they came to an agreement within seconds, they left. Ed just got done mopping, or rather smearing around, the impressive blood puddle around my chair.

I've been to too many bars in my life. The part that I can remember, at least. So every trip to one of those dives feels like a deja-vu. I dig inside the pockets of my jacket for the right amount of bills and leave them on the sticky bar. Ed will have a fun time trying to pry them off the remains of spilled drinks and what not of the past ten years.

Walking out I try to hold my breath, I can smell the bathroom stalls. They reek of the past few hundred people that used them, three taps are leaking and I don't even want to think about the guy that has passed out on the floor about fifteen minutes ago. I would block my senses and use them like a normal human would, but it's just too much fun.

Do you see me laugh?

Didn't think so.

I can't and sometimes that stinks. Literally.

It's not even ten and I look around the parking lot. This is the outskirts of a fairly large city, once this might have been a flourishing industrial area. Now most of the buildings are empty and I hear rast rustling and bustling about. There's a couple of teenagers listening to either music or a violent car crash and nothing more. Well, there is a small club a little down the road.

Glancing around once more I decide to give it a shot. As long as it doesn't smell like a decade of bodily excretions I can put up with loud music. Not sure about the kids though. I'm used to the laws of grungy bars where they leave guys like me alone. Unless someone's stupid enough to provoke me. After his friends scrape him off the wall I have my peace, as far as that is even possible. But kids these days just show no respect. Something about hormones that makes them walk up to guys like me to make fun of our hair. To ask silly questions. To just be awfully young and annoying.

Before I can make up my mind I have already walked up to the building, an old factory. My nose tells me they canned fish here a few years ago. The smell still sticks to the bricks and the floors. It's positively oozing out. But better than the joint down the street.

I notice a familiar scent. Leather, oil, pot and what I call mutant smell. It is hard to describe for anyone who doesn't have a sense of smell like I do. It's like rocks. They smell differently. And try to tell that to a normal person without getting laughed at.

"Hey Logan, here to run with the cool kids or what?"

Beezer is one hell of a huge guy. He is also deadly afraid of spiders and an avid cage fighter. We go back a few years when we met in a bar up in Canada. We fought for three hours straight until the owner of the bar decided to declare us both winners. He was scared we would tear everything down. That and by that time the inbreeders that made up the crowd that night had figured out we were both mutants.

Beezer isn't only riding a hog, he is one.

"Up for a fight?"

He grins, then points down a long line of kids all dressed up that I trace down two blocks before it is swallowed by darkness. This sure is a popular place. And he seems to be the bouncer. What kind of club hires a pot loving biker who knows most important pieces of world literature by heart? Every god damn club on this planet. Without the literature part. You wouldn't believe it, this guy has gone to college.

"Sorry pal, no can do. I have a real job now."

He laughs that crazy laugh of his, then points over his shoulder.

"Wanna go in? Better hurry before I make up my mind."

For a moment I consider the facts. Booze, annoying kids. Booze, annoying music...Booze. It always wins. A few kids waiting in line protest but stop when I give them a raised eyebrow. Still works. Good.

Inside I instantly regret walking in. And paying ten bucks for it. And not killing the wardrobe kid for trying to take my jacket. What saved him was the fact that he shrank to about half his size and fled once I bothered to stare at him. Ignoring him sure hadn't helped, he had left his booth to follow me inside.

I head straight for the bar and get myself some whiskey. That little girl had the nerve to asked me if I wanted a whiskey and coke. Almost forgot to pay her over that. This club is an insult to all of my senses, I smell sweat, there are hormones bouncing off the walls, the music is screeching and the bass is vibrating off my bones. A very unpleasant feeling if your bones happen to be infused with fucking adamantium. But I doubt that the DJ will cater to the wishes of an old guy like me who asks him to shove his equipment... Actually, I could do that for him.

The dancefloor is packed and the songs switch to this horrible... Anyway. I hear and smell a group of pissed off drunk women, they don't just sing along, they scream. Not that anyone can hear it. Is this volume even legal?

"_How does it feel?  
How should I feel?  
Tell me how does it feel?  
To treat me like you do_ "

Holy heavens, why don't all the man evacuate the building right now? Even I don't get that pissed. Well, I do. But those are women damn it. They are way more dangerous than an unleashed Wolverine. And they are drunk.

Smirking I am about to find something else to occupy my thoughts with but I see a few sparks fly up above the heads of the anger management class. I turn back, filtering their scents. I should have smelled it earlier, Jubilation Lee. Of course I noticed the faint aroma of mutants among them but I didn't bother. And didn't I come here to find someone from my past?

Well, among other things. I have managed to stay away from the mansion for over four years and had been dense enough to assume Marie would still be there. Storm had filled me in on what I needed to know-her powers were back but had changed, she left the mansion after gaining control over her powers And hasn't been seen ever since. She calls from time to time.

She could have had a job there and she would have been safe. So why in the world would she leave all that behind to just vanish off the face of the earth?

And don't you dare thinking that. What I do is completely different.

I snort and take another whiff. They got even more worked up. And then it hits me, another smell, familiar but with a new tinge to it, just before I see her, she has gotten a haircut. Suits her. I will not think of it as feathered, but you can't live in a mansion filled to the roof with teenage girls and have ears like mine without hearing a thing or two about hair. And clothes. Shoes. Teacher's asses. Believe me, hearing them swoon over your body parts is something you would want to shut out too. The clothes are something I will have to get used to, I remember her being covered head to toe, not wearing short skirts and tank tops.

I sense a lot of anger radiating off her like heat waves. But her heart beat is just slightly accelerated. She turns and I see her face. All the softness of her youth has gone, no more traits of baby on her. She looks hardened, like she has been through a lot. Her left eye catches my attention and I snarl. Under a thick layer of make up I can see a fading bruise. Whoever did this to her is dead. At least he will wish...

A guy approaches her and says something so disgusting I wish I didn't have to hear that. Especially since my vision starts blurring and I can barely keep myself from tracing the guy that beat her.

"Fuck off. I've had enough of guys like you."

He replies something equally disgusting-and grabs her arm.

I get up and ready to strike.

"Don't say I haven't warned you asshole."

Slight ripples are washing over her skin and the guy jumps back with a shriek, as if he had been electrocuted.

"You bitch!"

"Yeah, you go tell your friend the bitch was a mutant. They look like they'd be happy to do to you just what you proposed to me."

He hurries away and she grins, her friends staring after the guy, mocking him. Then she glances in my direction and I see anger flicker over her face, no longer than a second. She cocks her head and shakes it, apparently she doesn't like the new song. Well, neither do I. She walks off the dancefloor and I almost fall back when I hear her mumble.

"And when will you stop staring and come over to say hi? I noticed you ten minutes ago."

Well I'll be damned.

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**Not very long, I know. I'm working on it :P**


	2. Baseball bats and meat toppings

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**Thank you everyone for the favorite adds, the story alerts and especially the reviews-they made my day. And motivated me a lot-HINT people :P I would have gotten this done earlier, but youtube is hella distracting. At least I now know that being water isn't too bad sometimes. I also know that I might go to jail some time in the not too distant future but I'll be having great company.**

**There was a lot more hockey banter in this but I decided I wouldn't scare all of you away so I shortened it a... little bit. No offense anyone, I had to pick sides for them.^^ Excuse the lame plot so far, there's more to come, promised. Just bare with me. I** **also tried to eliminate all those pesky little typos, if you still find one, keep it and give it a good home**

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I have no idea what possessed me that I agreed to this. Possibly the fact that I agreed with them when Jubilee had blurted "This club sucks!". And I found myself being talked into going to going back to the apartment where... Rogue.. Marie lives. Hell, I'm not sure what I am supposed to call her now.

It's actually... Not what I expected. It is relatively tidy, especially compared to her room at the mansion. No dirty clothes wriggling their way out from underneath her bed to attack. But it's not really girly eihter it's... Very nondescript. And I can smell that guy that hurt her. I can even smell his anger, it hasn't even been a week.

What pisses me off almost equally is the Oilers fangear flying around everywhere. She even has a jersey pinned to the walls.

"So you're still supporting them?"

"Sure Logan. What, you still into the Flames? Come on, you don't have to sympathize with the losers."

"I'd rather be caught shoplifting in a lingerie store wearing a Maple Leafs jersey."

Her eyebrow shoots up but she grins at me. I did miss ur little hockey banters-and judging by the vacant looks on her friend's faces they don't know squat. It's always been like that, even at the mansion. And everyone claimed she took in part of my personality. Bullshit. If she did she wouldn't suport that team of talentless...

"Marie, ya have some food?"

Her blonde friend decided enough is enough I guess. I took a shining to that brat the second I saw her. She has a face somewhere under all that make up I'm sure and she managed to drown her scent in about three bottles of overly sweet, flowery, synthetic perfume. The cheap stuff. Well, it does suit her.

"Fridge."

She grunts and throws herself on the couch, a shapeless thing that looks like it's been abandoned in some back alley a few years ago before she found it and dragged it up the stairs. There has been a lot of eating chips and chocolate on this one. And... she either poured a few bottles of vodka on this or she's been drinking quite a bit. And judging by the impressive collection of empties in that box in the kitchen I'd go for option b.

"Drink, anyone?"

Aren't these women drunk enough? And don't they have to go home some time? It is two in the morning and I really think they should be... I keep forgetting they're adults. Last time I saw Jubilee and Marie they were kids. Well, they still are. Especially compared to let's say a guy that's more than a century old.

"There's some beer in the fridge Logan. And some pizza with meat, meat and I think there's some more meat you can pile on in there."

She knows me, I have to give her that.

I peek into the fridge and there really is some leftover pizza. Not bad, four kinds of meat. And beer. I will not try to come up with an explanation for the pizza, because she loves all sorts of green stuff and various cheeses. But it's been a few years, she got a haircut, why not change the taste in pizza toppings while you're at it.

Her stupid blonde friend speaks up.

"So he..."

"Can hear you."

I can't help but laugh at that.

"See."

Her remark is dry but I hear the grin in it.

"Oh."

So her friend probably just figured out that I am a mutant. I wonder if she knows about Marie and the firecracker-I'm pretty sure the fourth chick is a mutant, too. I've heard their names but why bother. Blonde and brunette, stupid and scared.

"I'm SO tired!"

Leave it to Jubilation Lee to lie so blatantly obvious. She always did that back in school, trying to get me and Ro.. Marie alone together. Back when the kid had that crush on me. Boy was that a tough time. But it works, they all scramble to their feet and leave, Jubilee poking her head into the kitchen .

"Bye Wolvie!"

I wouldn't be too sad if I didn't see her any time soon.

I try to stable myself for an unpleasant conversation about my whereabouts the past five years and a few lines in the spirit of "You could have called you stupid jerk" when she enters the kitchen and sits down, only to surprise me by snatching a slice of cold pizza and propping her feet up on the free chair between us with a sigh.

"You know, I kinda thought you were dead. Or morphed into an animal after all."

I raise an eyebrow, trying not to show my confusion.

"Well, they don't have thumbs so holding a phone would be difficult. Then there is the part with the inability to speak, but you sometimes get that anyway."

The tip of her tongue pokes out between her lips and she giggles. Okay, where the hell is the girl I know and what did this woman do to her?

"I was kinda busy."

Did I just snap at her? Wow. I'm at an all time low but she did the accusing thing after all.

"So was everyone else and funny enough, they at least send a card for Christmas. So, where are you staying?"

"Small motel down the street."

"That dingy sinkhole?"

That doesn't begin to describe it, but I'm used to it. It's not a five star deal, but it'll do without wrecking my budget.

"Yeah."

"I have a couch, you know."

"No offense, but your couch smells worse."

"Yeah, we've had quite a few ladies nights this past week."

I almost spit my beer across the table. She managed to stink that thing up within a week?

That would explain why the place looks so blank though. I never figured her as the minimalistic type.

"So...you've been living here for a week?"

"Yep. I tend to pick the bad guys, you know."

Tell me a bout it. She had a teen crush on me of all people. And she's apparently been with a guy who thought it would be a good thing to lay his hands on her. Which brings me back to my initial plans of skinning that bastard alive. And don't think because I can kill and skin a buck with bare hands I won't do this with a human being. There's a first time for everything and I'd enjoy handing his head over to her. Maybe she'd come up with some interesting things to do to it before tossing it. I'm sick but I find that idea entertaining.

"Wanna tell me what happened before I go and have a talk with that guy or should I leave right now and wait for him to tell me about it before he dies?"

She actually laughs. As if the thought of me really killing that guy is trhe silliest thing she ever heard. She should know me better.

"Don't worry, he's currently in the hospital recovering from skin contact. Well that and the louisville slugger that happened to collide with his head once or twice."

Atta girl.

"So you beat him to pulp?"

"After enduring a year of verbal abuse I moved out and he tracked me down that asshole. Punched me in the face. He deserved that."

"I'm not the one to judge and you know that. And I couldn't be more proud of you."

I stifle the urge to ruffle through her hair like I used to do. A kid might put up with that but certainly not a woman. Especially not one that assaults her ex with a damn baseball bat.

"Why thank you Logan. So, are you going to crash on my couch or put up with the motel that has fleas that are sure to infect you with at least three different and very interesting diseases or do you take my vodka drenched couch. See it this way, it is sterile."

The bit about the fleas sounds interesting but the thought of not having to go out and look for a place and instead just falling face first onto that hideous green thing and falling asleep fast due ro the fumes that thing lets out... Doesn't sound too bad, actually.

"I think I'll stay here."

"Good, you know where the bathroom is, I'll go get you a blanket and stuff."

I take a few moments to mull over the situation. This is certainly not what I expected. I was sure if I found her that she would be raging mad. And dense as I am I somehow hadn't taken into account that she would have changed over the past five years. Hell, that's half a decade, people usually do change, inside and out, over that stretch of time. Just because I don't doesn't mean she can't.

I'm giving myself a headache thinking through all that stuff. She didn't punch me back at the club-or pulled out a baseball bat-and invited me to her apartment. She allowed me to stay after the rest left and now she offered me her couch to sleep on. Unless she plans on killing me in my sleep, which would be hard for her to do anyway with my healing ability and her strength not necessarily being enough to decapitate me-not that I think she's capable of doing that-but... I'm tired, I lost my train of thoughts.

Rubbing my face with both hands to fend off sleep a little longer I look out for my bag. I know I brought it upstairs with me and left it somewhere-I spot a corner of it behind the couch and head over. For the first time I notice there are a few personal items in here after all. She has pinned a pictures on the walls and I can't help it, I have a built in curiosity that needs to be satisfied.

A pang of sadness rushes through me before I can avoid it-those are pictures from the mansion, there's Jean and Scott on a few of them. She with her friends on a few others, there's even that corny X-Men group picture we were talked into. I'm still convinced Chuck manipulated my brain for that one. I'm right in the middle between Marie and Jean in that horrible fetish suit. And then there's one of Marie and me on the couch in the common room. I hate having my picture taken and I am also not a fan of putting those on the wall or tote them around but this one... It's nice. We're looking at each other, apparently deep in conversation and there's a hint of a smile on her lips. And it's not like I don't remember it being taken-that canary had sneaked up on us watching a game and thought she was being stealthy. Of course I heard her-what I didn't hear was the camera until she took this picture. The second and third of this series have to be me closing in with my claws out and looking pretty angry.

I hear Marie, I think I will stick to that one until she tells me otherwise, enter the room and decide a shower can wait until tmorrow morning. I glance at the clock, well, after I slept I few hours. She helps me make my bed and after wishing me a good night, heads for her bedroom. I hear the bed creak and her throwing from side to side for a while, meanwhile I kick of my boots and enjoy a cigar. She falls asleep before I am done with it, not without some more tossing and mumbling. Some things didn't change at all.


	3. Aspirin on legs

**I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed- ****hobbitsdoitbetter**** (I am actually rather angry with the writers, since in the comoics she was this badass chick that could kick some serious mutant butt. Just trying to get things back on track^^), ****1sweetmoment, ****JohnPaulGeorgeandRingo**** (I still picture us stumbling around shitfaced trying to even FIND that damn safe LOL But we'll have a great tme in jail. Do you think they allow us intenet access?), ****Comic-cake**** (I see. And the Wolverine doesn't DO sweet, ya hear :P), ****Dragongirl of the Stars****, ****SapphireMind**** (thanks for popping this storie's review cherry btw ;) ).**

**Another thank you and a cookie for those who put this on their alert list and/or their favorites. Every time that happens there's a Logan out there clutching his beer and growling, just for you. Now if you write a review for this chapter he might just take his shirt off and kick someone's ass. :p**

**There's nothing else to say I guess. It was raining outside today and so I couldn't cut the hedge, boo hoo. So I invested some time into the new chapter, gotta take advantage of the juices as long as they flow.**

**And before I forget, let me not-thank google and youtube. You guys are freaking bad for my motivation. With all your inspiring things that have me in a puddle on the floor. Tsk, you!**

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The next morning I find myself on the way to the floor-half of my body is dangling from the edge of the hideous green thing. I have tried to not analyze the odors penetrating my nose half of the night because aside from spilling half of their drinks, women sat here. And talked about guys I guess. Not that I would be interested in the fine details of a conversation like that, but... All I really want is to plug my nose. Those are kids damn it.

About half an hour after waking up to the lovely sight of the shaggy carpet I hear a moan. I was just getting ready to find something to eat, this makes me stop in my tracks and try to analyze the sound. It definitely had nothing to do with pleasure, I know those well enough. But is this just a hangover talking or an intruder skewering her? It sure did sound like the latter. She shouldn't drink that much but it's not like I haven't said that before. Not that I would know how a hangover feels like, thanks to my healing I have to work pretty hard to even get really drunk. I get the immediate effects but not the aftermath. Which is nice, especially judging by the very colorful descriptions I have received since picking up that kid so many years ago.

Marie stumbles out of her bedroom in a nightgown that makes me grin. I would laugh, but as I found out she's the violent type now-and she has a massive, punding headache from the looks of it. The thing is pretty short but there are little... are those dogs? Oh yeah, that Snoopy. With the little yellow bird. See. She's a kid. But she isn't. And that's the last time I will allow myself to think about that, I need to sink my teeth into some meat and have at least two coffee. Not that I really need that to wake me up but it's a habit I got into living at the mansion.

"You look stunning this morning."

Couldn't help that from slipping out. It would have eaten me from inside.

"Thank you Logan. Make your own breakfast, you know how to work a stove right. I need to go and buy some aspirin. Everything I can get my hands on."

I get up and walk towards the kitchen and when I pass her by in the narrow hall, I get an idea. This will not only help her get rid of her headache and that horrible mood of hers, but will also save me a lot of questions.

Without comment I take her hand in mine, but when I see her face I decide I have to comment after all. Apparently hangovers render her stupid too.

"Go ahead, switch it on already."

Slowly her face goes through different grimaces, she is obviously weighing pros and cons here. Less thinking more action would be nice, I spotted some nice bacon in the fridge last night that is calling my name.

"Okay."

I prepare myself for the unpleasant sensation of someone, well, her, sucking put my powers but all I feel is a slight pulling in my stomach. It actually tickles.

"Impressive."

"Yeah, I stopped draining people until they almost die, it's easier on the conscience."

As a nice side effect the black eye is gone, too.

"Good for you. Feel like some bacon and eggs now?"

"Not really but go knock yourself out. I can at least stand the smell without running yesterday's food through my head."

"I'll make yours extra greasy then."

With a groan she heads for the bathroom and I laugh. It takes a few moments for her system to clear out the bad hangover dwarfs, they are probably still tap dancing around in her head.

I dig around the cupboards on the hunt for some toast, I know I smelled that somewhere earlier but somehow can't seem to find it. The shower has long been turned off and I hear footsteps behind me. She's barefoot.

"What are you looking for down there?"

"Toast."

I pull my head out of the cupboard that I now know contains a few pots, kitchen towels, a few half dried onions and a mouse trap. A few toast crumbs too, but no toast. And I just noticed she has a towel wrapped around her. A short one too.

"It's up here."

She turns around and gets on her toes to try and reach up to get that damn bread and her towel... I better help her. And pry my eyes off her ass.

"Let me get that. You're too short."

She snorts and heads to her bedroom and I hope she will put some decent clothes on. Meanwhile I scramble some eggs and fry them with onions to go with the bacon and the toast I'm making simulataneously. The kitchen is small enough that I just have to stretch out an arm to catch the toast. Apparently she hasn't bothered to fix it, the first round I put in there went flying straight up.

When Marie comes back I am relieved that she is wearing jeans and a longsleeved shirt. That looks more like I remember her, just a little curvier in some places. And a little more in others.

"Some day you will make someone a fine wife."

"Don't push it kid."

"I'm sorry."

The tone of her voice tells me that she isn't at all, but the food is ready and I am starving. I came back to the mansion yesterday, after a few days of more or less driving and a little sleeping. Then I had to endure the whole "Welcome back home" ceremony I have had so often now it is like choreographed. Only this time, something;someone, was missing. And I hate to admit it, that beaming smile of hers always had been something I actually looked forward to. So after I had dealt with the fact that the Professor was very much alive I headed out for a night on the town to get a drink or two. And maybe stumble over her scent. I did. What are the chances.

"So, why did you come back now?"

"Took some time to sort things. I remember a few more things now. And why did you leave?"

"Wasn't much holding me back."

"And what are you doing now?"

"Working?"

Before I can get annoyed and hold her upside down by the feet until she gives me a proper answer something starts to beep in the living room. Seeing that Marie doesn't react and isntead stares at me helps me to remember the damn communicator Chuck forced on me before I left. I don't see why he can't just get into my head, but he probably doesn't want to. Can't blame him, I'm here 24/7 and it isn't nice most of the time. I wouldn't come for a visit either.

"Yeah."

"Logan, I don't care where you are and what you did but you promised to take over the danger room today."

"Don't worry, I'll be there in time."

"It's set to begin in half an hour."

"As I said. I will be there."

Damn those weather witches and their temper. I wouldn't be surprised if I would get struck by lightning out there if I happened to be ten minutes late. So I have only time for a quick shower now.

"They talked you into doing classes already?"

"Only training."

"You really missed being there, huh?"

"Don't you?"

"Not really."

"This conversation isn't over. It's just postponed."

With that I hurry into the shower, forgetting to ask her for a towel. I'm too used to life on the road with towels already waiting in the bathroom. And if you sleep in the ditch towels are the last thing you worry about. So I use hers, it's still wet and unfortunately, smells like her. There are a few things that have changed about her, one of it being the smell. I'm not sure why, maybe because she absorbed so many people's powers that she took on their personality and with that their smell. Or it's her mutation that she can control now. Whatever it is, it stirs something in me.

"Are you okay in there?"

"I'll be out in a minute."

I put my jeans back on and find out that I forgot a T-Shirt. So I just put the flannel shirt I wore last night back on, not bothering with the buttons for now. Heading back to the living room I gather my bag, the communicator and my leather jacket before putting on my boots. Marie watches me with a grin.

"Got any plans tonight?"

"Ladies night."

She ignores my arched eyebrow and gets up to get a piece of paper and a pen. After some fast scribbles she hands it over to me, I can barely make out the numbers.

"Here, that's my number. Call and we'll work something out."

"Okay."

She walks me to the door and I finally get the hug I was sort of waiting for since yesterday. Now the world is in order again, except for that baseball bat that stares at me when I reach for the door handle. It looks clean but I can smell blood-now I know why the smell of that guy has been so present. I also smell anger but I note that it isn't only his-it's hers too.

I also note her neighbor staring at me through the half opened door. We're still in half of a hug and I hear Marie chuckle. All I see on the other side of the hallway is a watery blue eye. I smell...prunes and a half mummified dog.

"Your neighbor is the nosy type, huh."

"Yes."

She lets go and I just know that the old lady next door will hurry to her window-to see me get on a motorcycle. I'm sure she loves that Marie moved in. A guy comes tracking her down, there's screaming and the fact that they beat each other up good, a constant stream of drunk chicks every night and now me. I should come here more often. And sure as hell, as I swing my leg over the bike and cast a casual glance upwards I see an old lady with an ugly little dog clutched to cher chest staring at me. I also see Marie two windows to the right and I give her a smile. She points in the direction of her neighbor and I give her a court nod. She rolls her eyes, I can see that even down here. Maybe I'll even come back tonight, who knows.

Back at the mansion I roll into the garage five minutes before I have to start my lesson. Don't know what Storm got so worked up about. Plenty of time. I briefly consider looking for a beer in the kitchen but make up my mind once I run into said wicked woman in the hall. She smiles up at me and puts a hand on my arm.

"So, you did find her."

I nod.

"She doing okay?"

I nod.

"Had fun last night?"

I can't help but grin and the lingering curiosity. She wants to know and she doesn't and she also think it would be very wrong if we had done anything htat involved taking our clothes off. Aside from the fact that Marie is an adult now and no longer a student, and Storm really has to get over that, I wouldn't. I mean, she is damn attractive but... No. I couldn't.

There's no need to spread that around though. Because I just saw the popsicle stomp away. Of course I know he had a front row seat for this little chit chat and I don't see why he shouldn't be a litle pissed off. He deserves far more than that for causing so much grief for a dear friend of mine. Yes, that's been a long time ago, but I never forget.

Unless someone tampers with my memory but let's ignore that bit for a while.

I think I'm gonna see if Marie is willing to send her girlfriends to an AA meeting tonight and do something with me instead. Maybe talk about why she needed to be stubborn and leave the mansion. And what she does for a living. And I sure hope it has nothing to do with her taking her clothes off because... I wouldn't like that.

And I know she doesn't really need me to protect her from let's say bad guys but I promised to look out for her. Maybe I'll find another way to do that. Maybe I'll drag her back here and have her teach needlepoint to a group of silly teenage mutants.

Speaking off, I can hear them buzzing about in the dressing rooms, a few guys boasting about their abilities. With a snort I grab the file with the students details someone has deposited for me in the teacher's room. Too bad for them the Wolverine is in a great mood today.

Because that is even worse than pissed off.


	4. Exercises in self restraint

**Excuse the delay, a wonderful holiday weekend happened. There was alcohol, shopping, movies, homemade pie and my hub's ex being an idiot on TV involved so as you see, it was filled with fun and action. The good thing is, it inspired me for a few more chapters down the road. Wee.**

**Thank you to all you lovely, beautiful and awesome people who commented on the last chapter, see this half naked Logan flex his muscles just for you. If we are done trailing that drop of sweat making it's way from the hairline down the neck and across the muscles of chest and abs... I got lost in that for a moment :D Anyway, I'd like to apologize in advance. I hope I won't be stalked and beaten by hobbits but this depicts an Irish Pub I actually worked at. ^^**

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Yep. They sure hate me those cocky little pricks. At least they now know that they shouldn't go around telling everyone how great and powerful they are until they have spent a danger room session with me. One of them had the nerve to demand that I let him out. Because he's a mutant and doesn't need any hand to hand combat yadda yadda. I asked him if he would like to die in a very unpleasant way, like being impaled. Still one of my all time favorite threats. A nice change to all the gutting and skinning, you got to keep some variety. So I had them fight one on one, unfortunately they started to carefully slap each other, there's no other way to describe it. The rest of the class had a lot of fun watching that. Too bad it made me only angrier. Them trying to worm their way out of fighting against me, too. I'm really proud of myself for not hurting them-at least not in a way that is against the danger room rules.

A session like this can only be topped by doing phys ed with a bunch of fifteen year olds. Because you have to wear a helmet or constantly duck with all these hormones flying around. You got girls giggling and whispering and boys getting googly eyes over a god damn pair of teeny legs. They look like foals. I honestly doubt I have ever been that way.

It's just those two classes but they already have me considering to pack up and leave. If there wasn't something I needed to do I would. After my second shower of the day I call Marie, I just hope she has good reception because I hate cell phones. Try calling someone when you have ears like mine. Not very pleasant.

"Hello?"

"Still planning to get drunk tonight?"

"Hell yes."

"Mind trading three girls for me?"

"That is a very crappy bargain and you know it."

"What if I pay?"

"You try to buy me? Nice."

"Is that a yes?"

"I heard that growl. I guess it is, yes."

"I pick you up at eight."

And I hang up. I don't like phones at all. Because I can't see or smell the person I'm talking to and a good deal of the judging I do happens to be supported by evidence my other senses give me. And those damn cell phones are something I will never really understand. Why do I want to listen to music with one? Or take pictures. I'm not exactly the type of guy you see taking pictures of something interesting or my friends somewhere. Because one I don't have friends and two I don't take pictures. Especially not with a cell phone. Why do we have real cameras then?

And those phones are so damn small you try to press one button and press three. I will stick to landlines until someone comes up with a useful idea.

Time passes relatively quick and so I find myself in the hallway again, it smells like cabbage now and I hear the old lady shuffle behind the door, trying to get a good view through the spyhole. I resist the urge to poke one of my claws through it and knock on Marie's door instead.

Seems like she's been waiting already, because she opens within about two seconds of my last knock, all ready to go. And I am glad that she owns decent clothes. Because unlike last night at the club, she doesn't look like a hooker. Not that I don't appreciate the minimum amount of fabric on a womanthat passes as "dressed"-just not on her. She isn't the type for that. And I would have been more than willing to convince her of that by, let's say, locking her into her room for a few days or until she came out dressed properly, whichever came first. Knowing her, it would have been weeks.

She leads me out of the house and into a small pub two blocks down the street. Like everything in this area, it looks a little grimy, but good enough to be a few classes above the bars I usually pick. Somebody must have gotten his hands on the Irish pub catalog and ordered one each because... wow. This is stuffed. With little leprechauns, clovers, you name it, they have it. She heads straight for a booth framed with Guinness tin signs and knick knacks and I hope they don't just have the "typical" stuff. I hate Paddy. Tastes like... I don't know. Just don't like it.

"Rogue! What can I get for you and...your friend?"

If the fat little guy would have had red hair I think I would have left. But it's black and he's wearing a ridiculous green vest. But if he thinks that works for him, alright then. And I don't know what to think about the name drop yet. She must be a regular from the sound of it. My eyebrow hitches up automatically at that thought and she smiles at me. The sweetest smile she's got, too.

"You got steak?"

Fatty nods.

"I'll take that and a beer."

"I take a beer and the crazy fries. And say hi to Kody while you pass our order through."

That did sound like a threat.

"Of course I will hun."

And he wobbles away. Seeing how it is difficult for him to walk with his fat tub I will refrain from hurting him for what he just said. I think someone needs to explain.

"What was that all about? Want to keep the cook from spitting into our food?"

She giggles. I don't get it. Why can't she start being as predictable as everyone else. Is that too much to ask?

"Something like that. He better take one of the good steaks and not one of those full of fat and yuck. And if you order a beer around here you'll get a lager someone like you might not appreciate. Sheamus will make sure we get something that doesn't taste like nail polish."

"So you're a regular?"

She grins into her scarf.

"You could say that, yes."

The urge to smash something is rising. So I take out a cigar and light it, everything to keep my hands busy. And away from her throat. As if to mock me, she has just taken off that green scarf.

"And by that you mean...?"

"I work here."

Okay. Better than taking her clothes off, I have to admit that. But not as good as it could get, she should definitely rethink her career choices. Especially when I see those old guys there at the bar.

"Huh."

"That's all you have to say?"

Actually, no. I have all kinds of things to say to her right now, but there is not one thing I am willing to say out loud. I don't do long talks and there isn't much I can give her grief for. She's grown up and doesn't do anything illegal. So I'll shut my trap. About time someone changes subjects here.

"How's your eye?"

She frowns. I like that a lot better than the giggly girl. I know this. I can deal with it, it is familiar territory, carefully mapped out in countless fights.

"You know damn well how it is. You let me borrow your powers, remember."

Our food arrives and it smells good. I dig in without paying much attention to the huffing and mumbling young lady on the other side of the table. She knows I'm not the one for talks. That and I am staring down a guy who doesn't want to pry his eyes off her. Maybe I should talk to her about the advantages of baggy sweaters. This shirt she wears is a little tight. And the fact that she didn't button up those very important upper buttons isn't helping here.

"That guy is scared of you already Logan. Leave him alone."

Her hand on mine brings my attention back to our table. I ate everything without noticing it.

"So... you found out a few things, huh."

"Yeah. Some of it I'd rather forget again."

"That bad?"

"You don't wanna know."

"Some of it I already do."

She points at her head and smiles. How anyone could share my memories and not bolt I don't get. But then again, it's Marie. She's never been like anyone else.

"So, you work at a pub that's more Irish than some Irish and I found out that women in my life tend to get killed, preferably by me. I'd say we drink to that."

Two hours later she plays with a little shot glass and rolls it around the table lazily.

"So, you're really over hundred years old?"

I lean back and empty my beer. Have lost count and frankly, don't care. We've been busy drinking and talking. Never thought I could have such a good time doing things I hate with someone I like.

"yep."

She starts laughing out loud and almost slides off her bench. My eyebrow reacts to that without my consent.

"What's so funny?"

"Just remembered how everyone kept telling me that you were too old for me. Boy if they had known..."

In a hysterical fit she almost knocks out Sheamus, the fat little Irish guy with the remarkable fake accent he only drops at our table. He just brought us some coffee we didn't order. Irish coffee if my nose is correct, of course.

"But seriously. Aside from the fact that you were even too old to date my nan, you are the most decent guy I ever met. Why can't there be more guys like you?"

Because maybe there is a god after all. I'm sure he wouldn't want that to happen.

"Don't you have a little brother or something."

Her tongue darts out and she grins.

"Well, I do have a brother. But he's older. Half brother, to be precise. You already met him."

Her eyes widen and I see her trying to figure out who it could be.

"Sabretooth."

"Get out!"

And that we did. After half an hour of more banter and her being not quite as drunk as she probably would have been on any other day, without some leftover current of my healing ability in her body. We head for her apartment and she stops to look at my bike and sigh.

"I've always wanted to ride one."

"You haven't?"

With that horribly high number of bad guys in her life I'd figured she would have been taken out for a ride or... fifty. She shakes her head and I make another of those decisions you shouldn't make without thinking.

"Get on then."

**Oh and JohnPaulGeorgeandRingo... you owe me a truckload of booze. Make it Jack if you can LOL **


	5. Streets of Philly Cheese Steak

**I'm sorry for letting you guys wait so long, I seem to have become one of those writers who suddenly develop a life that's cruel and keeps you busy. That and I had some fluff bunnies stuck in my system, I'm pretty positive I removed them all now though. Sorry. No fluff for anyone :P Writing it from dear Logan's POV would be a tad bit weird. Just a wittle.**

**Thanks go out to all the amazing reviewers, let's gaze at them in awe of so much awesomeness: ****TheMarshmaloWizardGhostCookie**** (wow! What a name! I had to take a break after typing this LOL), ****cherish15**** who shares my love for drunk X-Men, ****Generated Anomoly**** love the name and the love for my story^^, smm thanks for not lurking and reviewing :D, ****hobbitsdoitbetter**** (Yes it was aimed at you anf hey, I loved Riverdance. Well okay I got drunk and... never mind :P Spinal colums are very much needed and now I picture Rogue with a mustache.), ****OceanFae**** laughing is healthy so I do something good right, ****Glykera**** thank you, ****JohnPaulGeorgeandRingo**** I hope you're happier now and you won't believe me that it was planned this way all along anyway. Btw where are you, if you went kidnapping without me I'll be iffed. Though so far there wasn't anything on the news^^, ****Luna-Lunak**** thank you and I'm curious about that, too :D Because... I don't know either LOL**

**Another thank you to everyone that decided to add this story to their favorites and or the alerts. You make me feel special :D**

**I still don't own any of the X-Men, I am still not marvel. Though I would love to own Logan but that's nother story. This continues to contain foul language here and there and it probably shouldn't be read by underaged people anyway because it was written in the aftermath of what is now known as booze-a-palooza. Apparently I needed some training^^**

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So that's all it took. For someone to go on a bike ride with her and exceed the speed limits a little bit. And I thought she would be scared. She isn't. She's squealing and laughing behind me, her hands firmly clasped in front of me. After a few miles she is howling and screaming like a banshee and I have never seen her like that. If she's like that just riding a bike I wonder how she sounds in bed. Now I really can't hide the grin I have been trying to hold back.

I just drive without really paying attention until I notice that we are almost in Philadelphia. The squeals have ceased completely a few minutes ago and I think it's about time we stop for a break somewhere.

"On the streets of Phiiiiiiiiladelphiaaaaaaaaaaaaaa"

Okay, so she is more drunk than I thought she was. And her voice is remarkably loud, she is sitting behind me on a damn motorcycle and we're driving... too fast. I need to stop somewhere and get her off before she falls off. I knew not putting a fucking helmet on her would be a mistake. So much for just assuming everything would go well. I just shouldn't do that. Now her hands are slipping.

Lucky for both of us there is a roadside diner just a mile away, according to the faded and rusted sign. Looked retro but it's probably an original from the fifties. I always find the old rundown places, that's another ability of mine. Screw the healing and the heightened senses. I have a built in bar sensor.

"Philly cheese steak. Sounds good. Can I get one? But hold the steak. Just... Oh, cheese. Cheddarrrrr..."

Yeah it's about time we stop. Just as we come to a stop in front of the diner she starts to slide off completely, head slumping forward. I barely manage to catch her and she goes completely limb. She just passed out on me, why the hell did I drive so far? Well because she was enjoying it so much I enjoyed her enjoying it. What kind of thought was that?

The only explanation I have for this is that she somehow shut my powers down she has borrowed this morning, or used them up, she hasn't taken much so that is plausible. But this is hardly the time to do some thinking, kneeing on the gravel parking lot outside a diner with a passed out girl in your arms at that time of night. She stirs and I barely contain a sigh of relief. Carrying a passed out girl will provoke questions when you are trying to book a room, even in the greasisest motel. Not that I have tried it before.

"Where's my cheese?"

"If you get up we can get inside and order you some cheese fries or something."

"Oh yeah with gravy and stuff."

How the hell does she think of poutine now?

"We're not in Canada."

"Philadelphia should be in Canada. No wait. We're in Philadelphia but we should be in Canada."

Drunk logic. I will never understand the workings of her brain when she is sober. When she's drunk she picks up a few notches.

"Why's that?"

"Because... Like six and a half years ago today I met this scruffy cage fighter that was really angry and gave me some beef jerky and a ride. Hey, you think they have beef jerky in there?"

"Only one way to find out."

I can't believe she remembers stuff like that. But I think most women have a built in calendar that they use to remember every little detail. She probably remembers the color of the socks she wore that day, including the rest of the outfit. It's safe to assume I wore jeans. Who cares. I don't even remember people's birthdays most of the times. Usually when I'm at the mansion there is a huge calendar somewhere in the kitchen and even then I forget them. I don't do presents, well, most of the time. There are occasions when you just have to face the enemy and soldier through a day of Christmas shopping because last time I had to deal with that holiday I wasn't allowed to give Marie a six pack. And always going on a trip down memory lane to retrieve "vital information" in late November without returning until sometime around March just isn't believable and would make me look like a coward. Then there's that brief moment of satisfaction when she unwraps the stuff and looks happy about the crap that's inside, that does count for something and after that, there's always eggnogg. It tastes a lot better after some adjustments, my favorite recipe is one part eggnogg to four parts rum.

"I think I can get up now."

We're still kneeing out here, well, I am. She is lying down but she looks sober...er. At least she isn't talking gibberish anymore. Or worse, anniversaries. But she doesn't complain about me not knowing. She knows me well enough, even though that doesn't keep her from pushing it most of the time.

After a few moments of swaying she manages to walk into the diner without much of my help. She stumbles a little but once we're inside and there is no gravel that reduces too. Holding on to my arm she slides onto a bench. Red vinyl, black and white tiles, what did I say.

"I hope their food isn't as greasy as the table."

So she's a restaurant critic now, too. But it's true, every surface in this place looks grimy. The cook probably wears a stained apron and a little white hat, at least it used to be white. A little gut, receding hairline. My imagination is running wild again. The waitress, Debra is her name, wears an old fashioned uniform and looks old enough to have worked here when the place first opened. She looks about as excited, too.

We order some burgers, fries and onion rings and she heads back to the counter. There is a soda fountain. Wow.

"Look, a table jukebox."

Fortunately, it is broken.

"I should have gotten a milk shake, too."

"Order one once the waitress crawls by again."

"She's not that old. Compared to you she's a little thing. What does that make me? A fetus?"

I shake my head and sit back. There is no reply to that. Well, maybe there is.

"Are you getting hysterical over that now? Because I think there might be a bucket of cold water around."

"You wouldn't dare to do that... Again."

"Wanna find out?"

"To think I got voted Miss Wet T-Shirt that year just because of that one beer."

"That you stole from me. And drank it, being underaged. And you threw up all over the place because you were also a kid that didn't like liquor or could keep it in."

"Good old days."

"I can still get some cold water."

"No thanks."

"Are you really that drunk?"

"Don't know, it's coming and going. Don't ask why."

"What made you think I would."

"Wow this conversation really is captivating."

"Think your binge drinker anonymous friends would want you to join them in about an hour?"

"Are you pulling the pouting teenage girl on me now? Because you know that used to be my thing Logan."

"It isn't anymore or do you say you still want to behave and be treated like a teen?"

She grins, but it looks like one of those grins that are followed by a punch.

"I've sure had enough of that."

The waitress ends our nice little chat by dropping some plates on our table. The second time within a few hours that we're eating fast food and no word about getting fat, I can appreciate that. I would be crazy to say I missed our little banters somewhere between a good laugh and slaughtering each other, but I did.

"So, what were you up to those past five years?"

"Finishing school somehow, moved out, went to work."

She really did take in too much of my personality. But she does react to my raised eyebrow and apparently decides to go for the longer version.

"You know, after you...left..."

After I left without telling everyone, after fighting with her over some silly crap I don't even remember. Everything back then was in a haze with my mind repeating "You killed her" over and over, not leaving much room for anything else.

"Well, I kinda got in trouble. A little."

My eyebrow must disappear behind my hairline by now.

"I... well, I thought I shouldn't stay at the mansion anymore, so I left."

I think I now remember why we had that fight. She knew she could have stayed even after taking the cure, but I understand why she didn't. Well, I'm the last one to judge here. It must have been miserable for her, I know a lot of mutants looked down on those who chose to get rid of their powers.

"I did leave officially, so I could finish school somewhat and well, I got my own place and got myself a job."

The way she casually says "job" sets of a code red alarm in my head.

"Do I want to know?"

"What?"

She couldn't have acted more suspicious if she had started to whistle.

"You know damn well what."

"Oh, you know. The usual stuff a girl does. Bartending, I was a cashier at a supermarket before they fired me for not being friendly enough, a dancer..."

That last one has me gripping the table with both hands. A DANCER? I know what that means and I feel like turning that table onto some neat toothpicks.

"There are veins on your forehead threatening to explode Logan."

"Don't talk to me right now."

"I didn't take my clothes off. I just danced."

"Was there a pole involved?"

Not that I really want to know. If there's a god she was a dancing chicken delivering musical telegrams.

"I wasn't good enough for the pole."

I actually broke off a piece of the table. Sawdust is slowly falling to the ground like snow in a little snow globe. Good image, I should hold on to that.

"Holy shit! Logan, I think we should... leave. Before anyone sees what you just did to the table."

"Technically, it was you."

I'd be surprised if she understood that, it takes a lot of effort to keep my rage on a leash so I can't waste it on really opening my mouth. My teeth are glued together, all I can do is grind them. A lot.

"Come on now, I only wrked there for a week and you'd see more of me on the beach."

This doesn't help at all.

"Why don't we drive back and you cool down on the way, huh?"

"You sure you can sit on the bike for another two hours?"

Because there is no way she can sober up enough for that and there is also no way that I am pushing that little button that helps us accelerate to a speed that is fast enough to make me queasy thinking about driving with her behind me in this state.

"Sure."

I don't need heightened senses to figure out that she's lying. Butt there aren't many motels on the way, either. It's probably best if we stay here somewhere.

"Actually, I need to go back anyway because I have to be in town tomorrow morning."

"You have to work? Call in sick."

What kind of pub is open in the morning on a weekday anyway? Not even an Irish pub can do that.

"No, I have other... obligations."

Well, there is a place that is almost in the middle but I seem to have been be too distracted by that anger monkey on my back to notice that until now.

"The mansion isn't more than an hour away, I can get you home tomorrow morning and we minimize the risk of you falling off the bike somewhere on the highway."

"Sounds good. Let's go."

I'm pretty sure if it wasn't for those "obligations" of hers she wouldn't have agreed that quick. Because as far as I know she hasn't been back since she left, not once. On the other hand, she probably thinks it's safe because chances are that we won't run into too many people around midnight.

I should have known this was a bad idea.


	6. The mixing of scents

**Another long wait, sorry. We have been cursed with a seemingly endless chain of illnesses and on top of that, cats with worms. I know, ew. I hope some of you enjoyed my little fluff bunny I let loose, it helped me get my brain sorted for this chapter. Sort of. Hehe. Well, I will get around to thank the reviewers for Reflections -shameless plug I know- personally and I will name each reviewer for the last chapter when I post the next. Right now I just want y'all to read it and can't wait for feedback, sorry. I'm a bit pressed for time so no hilarity in the author note today. I have too many ideas and not enough time these days, that definitely does stink.**

**Thank you everyone who still reads this, next chapter will contain a surprise. Something leading to some sort of plot. I know. Exciting!**

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The drive to the mansion is relatively uneventful, if you don't count the SUV zooming past us with three howling guys hanging out the windows from the second they pull into the other lane. I choose to ignore them, unlike my passenger back there. She chooses to flip them off. And hit one of them in the back of the head. Considering the speed both we and the soccer mom vehicle have, that is quite impressive.

I feel her tense up as soon as the highway starts to look familiar and she straightens up as soon as we pass the front gate. The fact that nobody is around to greet us is remarkable with telepaths around. But it seems like Chuck decided to leave her alone for now. All the better. She just looks tired now and I jaul her up to my room, pull out a flannel shirt that is large enough to be a nightgown for her, and push her into my bathroom. She turns on the shower and starts to talk to me through the closed door, something I remember her doing it with her friends back then.

"You know, your powers were the hardest for me to control."

"Really."

That somehow makes me a little proud.

"Yeah, because you're a stubborn asshole."

She knows that the only reason she isn't pretty girl kabop right now is the fact that she's in the shower, naked. That and she's the only person on this planet I could never lay a hand on, no matter how much I want to. She knows all that, that little...

And she just laughed.

"I think refreshing them now has tempered with my metabolism or something. I kept zooming in and out of being a litle buzzed but now it's all gone."

"Fresh air can do wonders."

"That and the ability to completely get any form of poison out of your system within a certain amount of time."

"Well, that helps, too."

She steps back out of the bathroom and I have to force myself to not stare at her. Her hair is wet and falls down in soft curls and that shirt, I shouldn't have given her that shirt. Not only is the hem a lot higher than I would have thought, even though she's so small, how can that... Oh yeah. She has breasts that sort of pull it up a little. A lot, actually. Stop thinking about them you jerk.

Anyway, what's even worse, believe it or not, is the scent. Her scent mixing with mine. She also used my shower gel. My scent on her skin, not good. I haven't thought of her in anything but a platonic way before and I wouldn't mind keeping it that way. Those scents sure make it hard.

Which brings up the next problem. I eye the armchair by the window, it is not the most comfortable place to sleep, I think I'll sleep on the floor instead. I will not sleep in that tiny bed with her, I don't care if someone claims it is a double bed-it isn't. A part of me wishes she had no control over her skin, that would sure make things a lot easier.

"Logan?"

I grumble to let her know I'm paying attention, I don't trust my mouth right now. It;s too useed to say whatever's in my head and right now that's the last thing I should do.

"You are not going to be decent and a real hero and sleep on the floor, right."

I should find out if she's drained a 'path lately because I could swear she's peeking at my thoughts.

"Who says I want to sleep?"

"Those dark circles under your eyes."

"Stop being silly and go to bed."

Sure enough, she sits down on my bed, pulls back the covers and looks at me. If she wants a staring contest she can go ahead. I won't back down, I'm not going to sleep in that bed with her.

"Don't be a pansy."

That might work on ten year old boys but certainly not on the fucking Wolverine.

"Come oooon. Are you a chicken or what."

Okay, but it might just work on a tired, exhausted Logan.

But I refuse to get under the covers, so she falls asleep on one side of the bed, curled up under the blanket with a lopsided smile on her face, clutching the edge of the comforter in her hands. I stay on my side of the bed, fully clothed and without blanket. I just know this is going to be a fun night.

An hour later, at roughly one in the morning, I wake up because she tries to snuggle up to me, so I have to slide a bit towards the edge of my side.

At three I wake up again because she got closer again and now has put her arm around me. I am already at the edge of the bed so I get up and sit in the armchair-I could have gotten in on the other side of the bed but I really don't feel like repeating this all night long.

Waking up to a pillow being thrown at your face by a bright eyed and bushy tailed kid at half past six when you more or less slept sitting in a chair in your clothes isn't really pleasant. I just snarl and ignore her giggling fit and decide a shower comes before killing. Maybe a coffee, too.

Surprisingly enough, hot water not only helped get rid of some of the kinks in my back, it also imrpoved my mood considerably. Well, maybe the thought of everyone's faces seeing her again played a role in that, too. Marie is sitting on the window sill and startes out the window. Her posture changes slightly as I enter the room, so I think she still hasn't switched off all of my powers.

"How can you sleep with all those people being so...noisy?"

"You get used to it."

I wish that wasn't a lie. Why does she think I'm so moody all the time? Having to listen to all that's going on in this mansion at night would be too much for everyone. Think it's bad during the day, wait until it gets dark out and furball gets his freak on. Not pretty to listen to.

But to be honest, it gets better after a while. Especially compared to motels. Smells better too.

"How does breakfast sound?"

"How about I just sneak out and walk home?"

She does look really uncomfortable. With the sincerest smile I can offer right now I grab her arm and drag her towars the door, ignoring her attempts to hold on to the bed post. A sound in the hallway makes me listen up and pick up a scent.

"Don't you want to say hi to the Popsicle boy?"

I know they left off on friendly terms but that doesn't mean part of her still despises that little tool. Ever seen a woman make up her mind within a fragment of a second? Quite impressive. She stops struggling and holds on to my arm instead, looking like the little rogue she is. I open the door and step out, her in tow. Someone just died I guess, at least that's what how that boy looks like. I know this is childish but it sure raises my mood. I feel the giddiness rolling off her in waves and her mood is contagious.

"Good morning Bobby!"

"....."

Without looking at him again she strolls by, still holding on to my arm. I'd pay a few bucks to be able to read minds.

_No you wouldn't Logan._

Ah good morning Chuck. Out and reading people's mind without their consent again.

_If you would stop thinking so loud it would be easier to shut you out. It's good to see you in a good mood and it is even better to see her back._

At least have her have breakfast before you try anything.

_Who said I would._

I know he backed off, that's just his style, be the last one with the snappy comment and leave whoever he disturbed wondering. Well, at least I know he won't try to talk Marie into staying. He never tried that with me either but I still came back that sly... I don't really know what. It's still creeping me out that he transformed his mind into some vegetables' body. He looks different, he even sounds a little different-until he's in your head. Still don't wanna end up a seven year old girl, een though Jean's not around to do the braid thing. Something inside me knows Rogue would be glad to take over, maybe even giving some makeup tips.

How the hell did we get to the kitchen.

Of course there's Storm brewing her tea and eating her... I really don't want to know what that stuff is, it looks too healthy to taste good. She tries her best not to grin stupidly but she fails. There's some blue fur sticking to her clothes so she better mind her own business.

"Good morning. Good to see you again, Rogue."

She gets up to shell out one of her welcome hugs, people around here have gotten the routine down pretty good. She has been gone for what, three years? And nobody gets excited. Same as I returned after five. I prefer it that way, usually. Missed one excited face but apparently she decided to take up the running thing too.

Storm shoots me a look that has to be described as smug and I follow her eyes. Oh yeah. Marie's still wearing my shirt, with jeans but still. And she slept in my bed so she smells like me even to those who haven't got a very sensitive sense of smell. I roll my eyes-I've never been to high school but this must be how it's like. Horrible.

After I get the coffee machine going and she overloaded the toaster there's not much we can do, so she sits down on the counter and I glare at the floor until I hear the weather fairy sigh and leave the room. Leave it to her to take a subtle hint.

"It's weird to be here."

"I know. But not much has changed. A few people, that's it."

I see her glance at the calendar and swallow. Jean and scott are still up there, I even saw their favorite mugs in the cupboard, though they have gathered some dust.

"Still weird. A lot can happen in a few years."

"Tell me about it."

"Later."

She grins and jumps off the counter to get some plates and knives, all in the same spots. Even the marmaleade is the same, I remember her eating it like candy out of the jar quite a few times. Strawberry and banana, weird what your brain remembers sometimes.

"Hey guys."

That unnerving girl just walked through the wall. Strange enough, she's been with Marie the other night and I didn't remember her at all. Safe to assume she's been at the mansion back then. Wait, wasn't she the popsicle's lay after Marie?

"Mornin' Kitty."

"You guys stickin' around for the big danger room fest this morning?"

I could use a little ass kicking right about now. With me at the giving end, of course. But there is one thing that bothers me.

"How come I don't know abou that?"

"Consider yourself informed."

With a grin she gets an apple out of the fridge and disappears through the wall again.

"So I better get you home now, then."

"Why's that?"

"Well, you have obligations and I'm sure you are in no shape to keep up with the grownups in there."

She returns my grin with a smirk.

"It's so on, Wolvie."

"I'll let you borrow my powers after I kicked your ass."

"Oh, you have no idea."

I don't. I'm aware that her fighting style will be completely different after all these years and her gaining control over her powers. Not to mention the ones she absorbed. As long as there are no bats or other blunt onjects around I should be fine.

"You're in for a few surprises."

"I like surprises."

I don't. But that just sounded too badass to not be said. I have a reputation to keep. And as long as it concerns her, I doubt there are any bad surprises. First of all I have to get her out of my shirt though. Because with my scent on her a danger room session could soon turn into something entirely different, and I really don't want to wrestle with her that way.

Well, I do. Weird as it feels. But don't tell anyone.

_Logan, if you don't keep control over yourself I'll make you wear a helmet._

Can it, Chuck.


	7. Kids

**Hello everyone! So sorry for another delay, but there's a perfectly good explanation for this. See, the person I wanted to kidnap just kidnapped me a while back and i've been rather busy :D I'm not suffering from writer's block, oh noes. In fact, I have started another story and another oneshot while trying to get this moving. But I won't publish anything until I am done with this, which shouldn't take that much longer, in terms of chapters.**

**And now to all the beautiful people who commented on the last two chapters:**

**OceanFae who felt sorry for the table :P, ****Dragongirl of the Stars and ****cherish15 who are members of the drunk Rogue fan club^^, ****Comic-cake who keeps making me happy by quoting her favorite lines (and this site does screw up on the alerts sometimes), ****hobbitsdoitbetter we share that funnybone but maybe that's because of my heritage too-and I might just go through with the hair thing LOL, ****writer23 and I hope you enjoyed the absence of drunkness in the past two chapters^^, ****3togetready I hope the danger room sparring lives up to your expectations (at least a little ;) ), ****Glykera I have to admit that I liked Chuck in this though I'd say Logan must be projecting pretty loud with his feralness and all, ****1sweetmoment I hope the other chapters can live up to the last then^^, ****ShaShocking thank you for the compliments you made me blush, ****serena001 I feel proud for keeping you from your homework and I hope your not so upset now that I've updated, and ****JohnPaulGeorgeandRingo-good to see you haven't been arrested yet, we should definitely wotk on that as soon as you get back to full health. Until then I'll be wearing the crown watching videos. Cheers!**

**I still don't own Marvel, disney does. So Disney does own the X-Men too. Can't you just imagine how they would be Disneyfied? Isn't that a terrible thought? Jean walking arpund surrounded by singing birds, Logan having to swap his bike for a white horse, Rogue being reduced to a sad side character with a sad little song and dance number? Yes, I shuddered too.**

**Anyway, on with the story.**

**I did my best to proofread but there might be typos. Blame that on me not wanting to sift through betas. I'm lazy that way. And not promising anything, but if you're nice readers I might get something done until Sunday. Got the weekend off, so who knows.**

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Popsicle stares at me, mouth gaping and I want to put a propeller hat on him. And a bib, maybe. Could be because I just walked in with Marie-still wearing my shirt, still grinning from ear to ear. Once more I am reminded of the fact that this is a high school, even though none of the mutants present is actually attending it, a few are basically still wearing their graduation robes. Off to the... locker rooms. I can hear the girls muffled voices, that Kitty guffaws and there are a few tentative questions. All nudges and winks and giggles. I turn around to face the men and boys in this room and dare them to make a comment.

They are smarter than they look, they all look away and keep themselves busy trying to get into their combat suits. Nothing looks more ridiculous than a guy trying to put those on. I feel my mood lighten.

In walks the furball, whistling happily and I remember the little dust of blue fur all over Storm. So they still haven't given up on their oh so secret relationship. Funny enough I seem to be the only one seeing the obvious. Well that and I had to hear them a few times. I wince at the memory and try to divert my attention.

"Good morning Logan. Had a pleasant night?"

With a growl I turn around and walk towards the danger room door. Screw those damn suits, I operate much better in my jeans, thank you very much. It gets distracting during a fight if you wear that tight suit that's too tight in all the wrong places.

The others start to spill out of the dressing rooms and I have to take back what I said about the suits earlier. They are definitely the right outfit for women to wear at any time of day. Or night.

Marie walks out last and unlike the last time I've seen her in one of those things she doesn't look self-conscious at all. Might have something to do with the way her body has changed since then. Okay, those suits should be illegal.

I bet they are in some states. Maybe I should check that. Move back to Canada, I doubt they'd alloow such shenanigans there.

She walks up to me, hands on her hips and smiles.

"I see you refused to wear your suit. Isn't that sweet that they kept ours just in case? What a pity, you're quite the sight in black leather. So, you're still thinking you can beat me old man, huh?"

I'm reduced to growling right now. Suit's too tight. Way too tight.

Storm claps her hands and tries to get everyone's attention, which works for most. I find myself ogling Marie's lower back, admiring the way that leather clings to every curve. Damn it.

"Everyone find yourself a sparring partner to get warmed up."

It's too warm already. And since when do we warm up around here, not when I'm in charge. Marie steps closer to me, giving her friend Kitty a look,obviously that girl had picked her as partner. Well, apparently I'm not in charge right now. The room flickers and we find ourselves in a nice fight scenario, it's dark and we're surrounded by destroyed and half destroyed buildings. The air smells like smoke and ash and adds more realism to it, at least to those who don't realize it smells synthetic.

"Smoke from the can? Nice touch." Marie mumbles and turns around to face me, getting into her fighting stance as she does so. I grin and get into mine, half assed because I want to provoke her and see what she's up to first. She has definitely the upper hand because I don't know how many powers she absorbed and can use, so she will probably fight dirty. I like that.

She starts to dance around me, circling me, jumping from one foot to the other. I block out everything else, concentrating on the sounds her feet and arms make, the way her body moves. Because I refuse to move with her, I stand perfectly still, waiting for her to move in. She starts to get pissed already, I'm a little disappointed. I note a difference in the rhythm she kept and dodge her fist aiming for my neck before I can even feel the air moving. She growls and I grin to myself.

Another swift move and she tries to kick me. Not nice. Especially not in that place.

She's snarling now and I think I am to blame for that. She looks like a little wildcat ready to tear my face off. I don't find that attractive. No.

Well, a little.

All it took was a few seconds of lying to myself, to drop my guard. She sees her chance and takes it, good girl. I find myself tackled and stumbling backwards, not because she is heavy enough to normally do that, but she took me by surprise.

Again, it's the suit's fault.

A well placed pile of rubble does the rest and I fall over backwards, her on top of me. I bang my head on the floor a little but that's definitely not spoiling the fun I'm having right now with Marie half straddling me, half lying on top of me.

"Gotcha!"

She smirks.

I reach up and grab her before turning the situation around. I just wanted to give her a moment of triumph, she seemed to have enjoyed it so much.

"You think so?"

She growls and starts to wriggle underneath me. Maybe not such a great idea. My mind picks that moment to alert me to the presence of others and I hear Storm saying something about moving on to the next phase. So I get up, somewhat reluctantly, and hold out my hand. Marie huffs and gets up without my help, rubbing her back. I can't hold back a grin that seems to infuriate her even more. I had hoped she would use her powers on me, but she didn't.

We gather around Storm who gives us a brief explanation about the next scenario. I realize we just programmed that one yesterday. And she told me we would be using that today. Damn.

We quickly divide in two teams and make our ways through the woods. The goal is to find several hostages and get them out unharmed. I'm still marveling about how quick this happens, no bickering about who goes where, we just split. Both teams have good fighters, trackers and at least one with skills that can defend the whole group. Of course our team has huge advantages, with me being the package deal. Just saying.

"Shh, someone's coming our way."

No kidding. It's Marie's friend again. The one that seemed to be afraid of me the other night and now isn't. Let's call her captain obvious for now. Whoever is plowing their way through the underbrush does not bother to be sneaky about it. I let myself fall back to see how they handle that fella as he breaks through the bushes-well, trees, and stops right in front of us.

"Oh not the dickhead."

I think I like Captain Obvious.

Juggernaut speeds up and before he can ram Tin Man, Captain Obvious grabs a hold of him so the guy runs through both of them. Nice teamwork right there. Instead of focusing on the two of them Juggernaut keeps running around, trying to run over anyone he can. He approaches Marie and I am itching to warn her, but she just... Floats up. Okay, that was unexpected. With a smug grin she moves herself to a comfortable height of ten feet, observing the scene and waiting. Very different from her silly hopping around during sparring, but basically the same. She doesn't waste much time on bullshitting around now.

Juggernaut suddenly flies through the air, spinning and whirling around, colliding with several trees before flying on to a few rocks. He crashes down, the cracking of his spine audible for everyone. Then he blurrs and is gone.

"Well, you got that taken care of."

I nod in appreciation as she descends, content smile on her face. She just killed someone. Yes, he was attacking us and he was just a simulation, but still.

"How about we find some hostages now? Or do you want the others to do all the work? Let's split."

Again without banter, everyone takes off in twos, Marie sticking with me. While we run through the woods, she is keeping up with me without much effort I notice, I am exposed to her scent again. It's still mixed with mine, or again, after our little fight earlier. Now it's mixing with leather and sweat and that is very distracting. Very.

I let my instincts take over enough so they take care of finding intruders and protecting hostages without much thinking, because at some point yesterday my thoughts started to annoy me. But I won't let them control me enough to do what is most present in my mind right now. Use my claws to peel that damn suit off her and see where it goes from there.

Half an hour later everyone is soaked in sweat and ready to crawl out as the room turns back o normal. Everyone but Storm, she never really breaks a sweat. Unless she is rolling around with big blue. Oh there's the nausea again.

After the shower, groups showers are definitely not my thing, especially with hairy blue guys, guys with wings, guys with tin skin or guys that freeze my water. Any guys. Anyway. I head out of the shower and attempt to look for Marie, who is waiting for me in my room. I didn't even have to look foer her because her friend, in between walking through two walls, told me.

She is watching TV, or maybe not watching. It's a music channel and they play some metal song. Long haired gruff looking guys, the singer screams. It's insulting my ears but she seems to like it, kind of.

"The guy I was with when my powers came back was a telecinetic. Apparently strong emotions triggered my mutation back into gear. Unfortunately for him we were just having sex. He recovered from it. Mostly."

She's still staring at the screen, eyes on the music video, and she sounds very distant. I would have expected her to be more emotional, like when she talked about the first time that happened to her.

"I mean, it's not like I killed him. He still can't talk and needs to be fed and washed and clothed, but it could be worse."

I feel my eyes trying to pop out of the sockets.

"After all he was a bastard. He got me out of the strip club and into things that were much worse. After I almost killed him there were several people sending me freaking gift baskets."

"Don't feel bad about it then."

She grins.

"Who said I did."

Whoa. I think I will need some time to figure out what to think about that.

"Can you drive me home now? I have an appointment to keep in an hour and I need clothes that don't smell like greasy diner or you."

Ouch, that hurt. But as before I couldn't find one fiber in my body that could refuse to drive her home. So we board a nice little Camaro, courtesy of Popsicle Boy. He has taste in cars and women I have to say. Not that I bothered to ask if I could drive it, why would I. Besides, riding on my bike with her is something I won't do for a while. Maybe a year or two, with the way she behaved last night.

We arrive at her place, iold lady pulls back the curtains and I get a glimpse at violet hair and a little fuzzy dog. Weird old woman. Marie hugs me and walks back into the building, her mind already somewhere else. I can't help but be a little curious, the bar doesn't open until some time in the afternoon. Maybe she's got a doctor's appointment or something.

While I'm still busy thinking things through, a woman walks by with a little boy on her hand.

"But why can't I live with her again?"

"I told you before Jamie, because she can't take care of you the way she needs to."

"But I don't want to live at the orphanage anymore!"

My heart went out to the little boy, it must be hard for him. Then I stop dead in my tracks and filter the scents of people on the street until I find the boy. He has traces of an all too familiar scent on him. I turn around-just to see him and the woman, who looks like what comes to your head when ou think about social service employee, standing in front of the apartment building Marie lives in. The boy reaches up and pushes the button I know is next to her name.

"I hope I can play a little longer with Mammy today!"

Mammy? As in Mommy? He smells like Marie, he rang her bell and he called her mommy. There isn't much room for interpretation on that.

The kid... has a kid.


	8. Back alley fights and a heart attack

_This took a little longer than expected and is the shortest chapter so far, but I have valid reasons for this. Now, normally I wouldn't say anything more, but this story is priceless._

_I love animals and everybody knows that. So a friend of mine told me her sister, who has a bunch of bunnies, was looking for someone to take one of her males. He was fighting with all the other males and tried to jump all the females, which already touched something inside me :P anyway, I go there to look at the little guy and what can I say. He's brown, has mutton chops and this wild hair on top of his head. And this woman says "Looks like Logan likes you". I'm still laughing^^ Turns out they have their bunnies named after the X-Men, they have Cyclops, Storm, Jean.. you get it. Now he's living with us and my initial plan was to get a girl, name her Rogue and let them have many many babies, but somehow my husband doesn't like the idea much :P_

_Anyway. On with the honor roll everyone-thank you for still reading this story and special thanks go to:_

_**cherish15** don't you tempt me :P I think Logan has to drink very hard liquor straight for hours on end just to be drunk enough to be unable to walk for ten, fifteen minutes-the downside of healing relatively fast, **Comik-cake** thank you for making me happy once again and I thought I want to be on the other end of the cliffhanger business for once^^, 1**sweetmoment** I'm glad you liked it and that I could surprise you, there will be more Rogan down the road (of course :P), **seargentlambchop** I twisted as best as I could^^, **rockout1** thank you :D, **hobbitsdoitbetter** of course I can, just wanted to show you how I feel ALL THE TIME :P, **serena001** keeping you from homework and now you were running late too, I'm on a roll, eh? And... Merry Christmas :P, **OceanFae** thank you for being one of the surprised ones^^ also, Canada wouldn't allow her to wear something that provokes such thoughts, I'm with him on that. If not, it's at least an awesome country to live in^^, **Glykera** prepare to find out a little more of his thoughts, though... not so much more LOL_

_Get ready, here we go_. **I still do not own Marvel, Disney, ot the X-Men. Though I can legally say I do own Logan. He lives in my garden and loves celery and carrots. And all his toys. And he comes to me when I call him and lets me pet him. Aw. You should see his nose wiggle :P**

So, I admit it. I kind of avoided her a little bit after that. I didn't call ot visit and I was sort of always busy when she called. I seem to have developed a new sense that sets off the alarm a little before she call. That and she has a pattern-she seems to get up around eleven most days and calls me. Then around four in the afternoon and at seven. I bet if she wasn't afraid to look too desperate she'd call after she gets home from the bar, too. Because that's a time she might even catch me at the mansion, if I don't visit a bar that's guaranteed to be kid-free.

It's just that I'm angry at her. Not so much for getting herself pregnant by some lowlife that apparently didn't feel like taking care of his kid. Well, that's part of it, but it can happen. What really pisses me off is the fact that she had the kid but apparently gave him away. The woman's words keep repeating in my head, over and over.

"_I told you before Jamie, because she can't take care of you the way she needs to."_

That always makes me want to smash something. And I gave in to that need on a few occasions. Inanimate objects, mostly. Except for that one guy at the bar who decided to smash a bottle over my head for reasons I can't remember. Oh and the rest of his gang. Hells Angels aren't what they used to be, really.

What kind of mother can't take care of her kid?

That brings up images and I can tell you, I sure as hell didn't think Marie would be anything like any of these women.

Which brings me back to the things she didn't want to tell me, things that probably led to this situation.

Self control is a concept I thought about in the past, but I've given up on it for now. I found myself blacking out with a lot of sawdust around me during my morning runs these past days, so I added some midday and evening runs. Night runs, too. Takes me back to the good old days when I ran around the woods like a damn animal. Only difference these days is I do wear clothes and I am capable of pretending to be a civilized person, so I get to use the stove in the kitchen and actually cook something. Something bought in the store, not something I tracked down and killed in the woods. And I use the bathroom. Ain't I a catch.

According to the sky over me it's early morning, the stars are fading. Sleep is overrated, I can go without it for weeks, thanks again to my healing powers. It's what they call stamina, though that word brings up other associations with people

Yeah, that too.

This is really ridiculous. I behave like a damn kid, this ain't right. I glance up once more. If I take a brisk walk, let's say back to the mansion and the garage and decide to take my bike for a spin I could be in town around curfew time. If I happen to drive by a corny Irish pub I could... Damn I'll just go and talk to Marie.

I'll ask her what the hell is wrong with her and she'll better have a good explanation for this.

Half an hour later I find myself parking in front of her apartment, suppressing the urge to wave at the moving curtains. I hear the old lady gasp as I look up and directly at her. She really shouldn't be so nosy, one day it's gonna come back and bite her old ass.

Over at the pub I realize the doors have been locked, but her scent is fresh, so she hasn't left long ago-and didn't walk home because that's where I come from. So for a walk I go, following her scent, assuming she went to some bar to have a drink before going home, blissfully ignoring the fact that there is a curfew around here.

I catch up with her scent by a dark back alley and sigh. Can't that kid do anything right? There are two guys with her and she smells really angry. They are mutants.

"Come on girly, just gimme that money and we can all go our ways, huh."

"Screw you, I'm not handing out tonight's deposit like candy on Halloween, asshole."

I think she likes getting into dangerous situations like this. It's like a hobby of hers.

"I think you're forgetting who you got here. We're mutants, we're dangerous!"

She laughs.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really."

Those guys can't even do that right. Nothing against some good pre-fight banter but these guys are down rigth stupid.

"Just look at you two boys. What are you, class two? All ragged and trying to be scary guys. I think... you need a woman's touch."

So she has a trademark line now, or what? Are we wrestling here? I move forward to get a good look on the scene. Two guys in long trench coats and makeshift masks think they cornered her.

Yeah, definitely wrestling. Mexican amateur league.

"Let's get done with that bitch, I wanna get home and catch South Park."

Even my feral side rolled it;'s eyes at that. They are what, eighteen? Maybe twenty-eight, you don't know that with boys like them. Probably very much into finding out the effects of various drugs on the mutant's body and mind.

They circle her and she is just standing there, not bothering to watch them, smirking to herself.

"This is gonna huuurt!"

She sings. That should make those two morons listen up at least, but they show no signs of doubt. Either they think it's a bluff or evolution has failed us all. Something tells me it's the latter.

And really, not even three minutes later the two are lying in an interesting heap on the concrete, one unconscious, the other still able to moan. Impressive, after colliding head first with a wall after being thrown through the air by some very impressive telekinetic skills.

"Next time you'll have to pay for watching."

With that, she walks past me, heading for the bank a block down, throws the little plastic bag through the slot for deposits, and passes me by again on her way home. I needed some time to process all the information, I wasn't at all surprised that she noticed me or about the way she reacted, no. I didn't talk to her for two weeks, what did I expect. So I follow her until we reach the doors of her apartment building and she fumbles for her keys.

"I thought you had disappeared again."

There's not much I can say tot hat. Actually, nothing, that's what I do, if there's anything I hate more than the whole welcome home crap it's the goodbyes. Well, actually, what I hate even more is staying in the same place for too long. And the walking hormones that fill up the mansion. And,... you get my point.

"We need to talk."

Her eyebrows shoot up, probably because I sounded angry. Well, I am. Smiling and being cheerful wouldn't really get my point across.

"What pissed you off?"

"You might remember that annoyed is my natural state."

She chuckles and we walk up to her door and just when I think that it's the first time there is no sign of her nosy neighbor I hear excited breaths and fuzzy slippers shuffling behind the door on the other side of the hallway. I take two steps toward it, look through the spyhole and growl. I hear a shriek and a thump.

With the satisfying knowledge that I probably gave her a heart attack I follow Marie into her apartment.

"So, what do you want to talk about."

"I know about the kid."

She frowns, apparently not understanding what I'm trying to say here-and I know she really doesn't, my built in bullshit detector tells me that much.

"What kid?"

"Don't be stupid, I saw him after I brought you home. YOUR kid!"

For a brief moment she stares at me, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. And then something happens that I couldn't have come up with myself when thinking about confronting her. Not in a million years and under the influence of a wide array of drugs.

She stares a little longer, takes in a deep breath and... starts to laugh. Hysterically.

* * *

_Sooo... surprised again? I hope so :P I promise I will get the next one done as soon as I can. Can you believe I'm already working on a Christmas story?_


	9. Leaving neutral zone

_Ugh. Again a few words of apology from yours truly. Can you believe I have been sick for two and a half months straight? It's not nice, let me tell you this much. Especially since the world doesn't just stop turning and waits for me to get back to full health._

_Speaking of, I'm sure you all heard Johnny Depp is the new sexiest man alive, taking the title from Hugh jackman. Do I hear crickets chirp? Anyway. I think he deserves it too. It's the second time for him, only Clooney and Pitt made it twice so far._

_Anyway. Yeah so that's my excuse (the sick part, not the sexiest men part), since we already celebrated Thanksgiving in October. Yeah I'm German but that doesn't mean we can't continue the stuff we picked up in Canada. Unfortunately employers here don't give us a day off on Victoria Day :P_

_Behold the mighty reviewers of chapter eight!_

_**seargentlambchop** You wanted a bone, I could have thrown you a ham roast :P, **wolverette** So glad you like it-and don't think my hub likes the name :P But it fits in with our other pets names so he can't say anything, though to him it's just "the bunny", **cherish15** uuuh that stuff is nasty! Anything homemade is, actually. Nothing taste worse than those homemaking kit wines. Yikes! Though I agree, he would feel that for about ten minutes tops, **Glykera** hope this information helps :P, **OceanFae** Giving it my best^^, **Bre **cliffies are great, at least I think so when it comes to my stories, not so much when I read them, I'm way too impatient, **Comic-cake** Why, did it seem to you like he was struggling, he isn't stuggling, the Wolverine doesn't struggle :P, **serena001** oh no I really don't like to torture my readers, it just makes sense to divide the chapters that way^^, **JohnPaulGeorgeandRingo** don't kick yourself, the wonders of alerts will take care of that now :P I do think you can get away with fuzzy-this time. Hope you didn't die, you'll find out the truth in a few moments, **ancim** thank you for the compliments, **hobbitsdoitbetter** I hope this will end your agony for now :P_

_To those of you who care a little update on Logan-I will have a little talk to our vet tomorrow because he told me the easiest way to get Logan to stop fighting with guys and humping girls and be so overall grumpy (he tends to bite. Not me though :D) would be to get him castrated._

_Now... I laughed at first. Because I had to think of our dear Logan. And to be honest, I wouldn't want him fixed, I like that gruffness of his and the whole... Logan thing. What would he be without it? But then again, many man claim committing to one single woman for a lengthy period of time is like cutting off their balls... And before I go even more philosophical on you, sit down, grab a cookie and enjoy._

* * *

I wonder what's so funny about that and wait for her to enlight me, but she just keeps on laughing, in the most annoying, bending over and slapping her knees kind of way.

"What the fuck is so funny here, eh?"

Usually she would laugh at me for saying that, after all that's what Canadians do. Talk slow, say eh a lot, wear flannel shirts, watch hockey, drink beer and work as lumber jacks.

But I don't talk that slow. And my lumber jack days are far gone, so anyone willing to live another day better watch it.

"Logan..." she croaks, face red and tear stained and all I do is stare at her lips.

Sick, sick old man. I won't blame this on my feral side, my instincts taking over my brain, turning the desire to protect the one person on this planet I actually give a shit about into some sort of possessiveness and that into... the desire to push her against that wall and take what I want.

No, I won't do that. I already did, didn't help much.

"Logan, he's not my son."

That actually makes me listen up.

What?

Oh.

"What?"

"He. Is. Not. My. Son."

That's impossible. He _smells_ like her. He called her...

"I've been working at an orphanage in some kind of big sister program, Jubilee is a social worker there and got me into it."

There is no time to laugh about the biggest joke since the beginning of time-ditzy, bubblegum chewing, annoying-as-hell Jubilation Lee is a social worker?

"That doesn't explain what I heard. And smelled."

She frowns at me.

"You will find out if you shut up for a few minutes. First I need a beer. And while I get us a few cans, maybe you can get out of your fight stance and relax a little. I have a couch, use that."

I growl and she laughs at me from the kitchen. Damn woman. I am a little angry with myself for just assuming things without talking to her, but I mean, it seemed kind of clear. Anyone could have made that mistake, right.

She walks into the living room just as I throw myself on the couch and she tosses me a can of Kokanee. I wonder where she had to go to to get that, but for now I don't care. She sits down next to me and I can smell that she's a little angry. And something else I can't name, some emotion that isn't happy, angry or horny. I don't care too much about the rest and so far I didn't have any problems with that.

"I met Jamie when he was little more than a baby. His mom dumped him in front of a church because she didn't want him, he had a skin condition called Neurodermatitis. It's not contagious or life threatening, but it was all over him, nobody wanted to touch him and he cried a lot because it was itching and hurting him."

Even someone as dense as I am can understand why she picked that particular kid.

"We did all the stuff you do with kids, went to the zoo, park, playgrounds, the works. Over time he started to view me as a real family member. He can be annoying sometimes, but I still love him."

I understand that, too. Except for the love part. A long time ago I did love I guess, but it's not like riding a bike, you can forget how to do it. It's actually pretty easy. Have someone you love betray you and after that, kill them once you love them. After the second it gets easier to not fall for anyone.

"He still calls me Mammy, he couldn't say Marie when he was little and it stuck."

Okay, that settled one of my questions, one more to go.

I put my can down, it's empty. Without looking at me she hands me another. Just as I open my mouth to ask she turns her head to frown at me. So I sit back, open my beer and shut my mouth.

"A few days ago he has had an accident. Nothing too grave, but he lost some blood. Remember how they told me at the mansion that I had a very rare blood type that they don't even have in the National Frozen Blood Bank?"

I nod. Of course I do. It had given me a heart attack because in case she ever manages to get severely inured-which is for an X-Men and especially her, pretty much a monthly occurrence-we'd have to find someone with her type to donate. Which is hard if one in ten fucking thousand shares your antigens. I know where this is headed.

"We match. So of course, I donated. Funny thing is, all his scars vanished after the transfusion, he hasn't had a new outbreak since."

This has to be because she borrowed my healing to get rid of her headache. Huh.

"Imagine what your blood could do!"

Drive people nuts. I honestly don't care because I don't like the idea of some degenerate doctor draining me to cure cancer. I generally don't like the combination of white coats and needles. But she knows that. If I had any doubt, her tongue sticking out would give it away.

"Well, you have to admit that the facts were all pointing in one direction, who would guess he smells like you because you donated your blood?"

"Anyone in their right mind would have talked to me before jumping to conclusions. But I know you aren't like all the sane people out there you big lughead."

There is no way that I will dignify that with an answer so I just stare at the wall and clutch my beer. What an adult response. Sometimes I just like to sit back inside my own head and watch myself behaving like a complete idiot. If you have decades to spend on training yourself to become the worlds biggest idiot, you should try that. Quite an experience.

"So, are you done throwing a tantrum now or is there anything else you want to talk through?"

"You have an evil twin you know about?"

She giggles. Good to know I can still do that, swing her mood around in a heartbeat.

"No. I'm not your sister either. And as long as you're around you can take care of any brain tumors."

Another one from the good old days. There were a few students glued to the screen when stupid soaps were on where there's always someone plotting, scheming, finding out their lover is their long lost sibli... Why did she just say she isn't my sister?

I start to think like a damn teenage girl.

"Too bad I ate the leftover pizza last night, I'm afraid I didn't go grocery shopping today and there isn't anything here worth eating."

Remembering the dried up onions I found in a cupboard the other morning I have to agree. But there is always some Chinese restaurant delivering all night so we go for that, even though I still have to leave and visit the beautiful 7 Eleven down the street because I'd like to drink something, too. There's a homeless guy sleeping in front of the doors that looks strangely familiar but I shrug it off. I'm having a hard time remembering all the things I am supposed to buy-basically everything they have.

The boy that wears a tag identifying him as Stu, assistant manager, looks at the stuff I pile up on the counter, then looks at me, probably trying to figure out what a guy like me wants with three different kinds of chocolate chip cookies and dill pickle chips. If he gives me that grin that those kids give each other when they figure they are both members of the stoner club I will leave him to bleed to death behind the counter.

"Girl's pregnant, huh?"

Apparently her thinks I'm not the stoner type. He's smarter than he looks. But that doesn't mean he isn't an idiot. I grab a few chocolate bars and frown at him, picturing his face twisting as I lift him up with one hand just to gut him with the claws on the other. If he didn't smell like a human I'd say he's psychic, even his pimples turn white. He swallows and tells me what I have to pay, not even bothering to ask if I want bags-he packs up my stuff for me with shaking hands.

If nobody mentions pregnancy, children and anything related to them in the next few weeks I'd be more than grateful.

Back in her apartment I am glad to escape the smells of wet dog and old people, Chinese food and Marie are a real trade up. Even if I still have to endure that horrible couch.

We eat in relative silence, the TV is on and I don't really pay attention to it, there is an NHL game on in about half an hour but I'm not interested in either of the teams. On the other hand it is a program we can agree on and since we're not rooting for any of the teams we won't get into any arguments. This could be a relatively nice evening.

Sometime during the first period she yawns and I pull her over like I did at the mansion when we watched TV together. Sometimes. Anyway, she doesn't protest-at least not me. I missed some high-sticking and a little fist fight, at least that's what I gather from Marie's mumbled insults, her face is half buried in my shirt and it's hard to understand.

Half way during the second period her breathing signals that she is fast asleep, of course I just noticed that, I didn't listen to her relaxed breathing and her slowing heartbeat instead of watching the game. No.

Instead of watching the third period I turn around carefully and put my legs up on the couch and reach behind me to prop up a pillow. Fighting the urge to kiss her forehead I lean back and allow myself to relax. For the first time in a long while I, the one who can go for days without sleep, feel a wave of tiredness wash over me


	10. Flip a coin

**Happy new year everyone! I try to be quiet just in case you are tormented by hangover dwarfs.**

**Sorry this took so long, life happened, a bout of inspiration loss and well, I got lazy.**

**I have a sad announcement to make. The next chapter will be the last one. I hate ending stories, that's why I usually abandon them^^ Actually I was going to post the last one today but decided to split it up, stretch that moment out a little longer. Some day I might write a sequel because I really enjoyed this, but for now I have a new story that demands to be let out and it feels like-almost-everything has been said for this one.**

**The lyrics used in this chapter are credited right underneath, I don't want to spoil the surprise :P**

**And everyone who's taken an interest in Logan the bunny-check out my avi^^**

**Big, big thank you to all of you who reviewed the last chapter, you know who you are, today there won't be a list and reply section, sorry for that, I am a bit tired since I worked on this chapter up until now. You will get a big thank you next chapter. And to the quiet readers, maybe mentally prepare yourself for a review next time? It would make my month to end this story and receive a review from all of you.**

**Enough talk, let's go!**

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A very annoying beeping sound penetrates the wonderful quiet and is soon followed by some very colorful curses. What, I am not a morning person. Especially not today. Who is stupid enough to call me at.. Oh. I guess I know who it is and I guess I have half an hour to get to the mansion and to class again. Well, screw that.

I carefully pluck the communicator from the pocket of my shirt and try to fling it out of the slightly opened window when I feel Marie stir next to me. Damn it.

"Will you ever be around for breakfast?"

She mutters into my shirt just before she starts to stretch.

"Tomorrow's Saturday, I'll give it a shot."

I can feel the corners of her mouth twitch, even through the thick fabric of my shirt. That reminds me of the fact that she is very close. And her hand is on my belt buckle. Before I can do anything stupid I get up and stretch. A night on the couch like this is unpleasant even if you have adamantium bones and heal quick.

The wind in my face helps me clear my head at least a little. I have to admit that I don't really know wat to do. As far as I can remember I have never been in anything resembling a healthy, normal relationship. From what I gathered things weren't much different before I happened to lose my memory. And that bit about the women I cared for dying is a little unsettling, too.

Well, at least I can say the women in my life all had something in common.

I killed them.

And after I killed Jean this idea formed in my head. Maybe I should lie down on a couch for this one, because it's so neurotic it calls for a shrink. Maybe I am not cut out for all this. Maybe my subconscious makes me pick women that are wrong because I shouldn't have anything like this.

And then along comes Marie.

Too young for anything, too young for my mind to even lightly brush the subject, even though I suddenly feel that strange urge to protect her from harm-and other males. As if I didn't know what that meant. I even tried to leave subtle hints. Telling her I wasn't her father and all that bullshit. I usually posses the subtlety of an exploding gas station. It was a huge effort and it was all for nothing.

Because the thing about being subtle is... nobody notices.

So instead of letting her know that I was patiently waiting for her to become an adult and maybe, if she decided she still didn't mind me being me I wasn't opposed to see where things would lead... well, she was sad, went with Bobby, got her heart broken by that snowflake-I still think he's gay- and went on to date every criminal under thirty within reach.

Well, to be fair, I wasn't exactly around to try my luck, so I can't complain.

Leaving my bike in the mansion's garage I head straight for the kitchen, I have fifteen minutes left, enough for a good breakfast. I can smell some bacon that is just waiting for me in the kitchen, there's coffee and toast, too. I ignore the sweet note Kitty, sorry, Sugar Puss, has left for her Babycakes.

I'll make sure to use that on Drake during the next danger room session.

But first I enjoy hos breakfast, I have to say that Sugar puss, and that I will suggest as her official codename, hell, why not Babyface, oh, Babycakes, too? Anyway, that girl does make some nice omelet. Mushrooms and cheese, pretty good. Her mom probably worked day shifts at a diner before putting on two tassels and some floss to wrap herself around a pole.

Come on, what kind of woman does that, sleep with a guy who's in a relationship? I bet the women in her family are all purebred whores.

Before I sound even more like a pissed off chick I head for the danger room and torment my students for an hour and a half before the room is filled with X-Men. Babycakes does look hungry and shoots his girlfriend an angry glance. What a bastard. Woman don't make food, man angry? He deserves to be maimed by some heavy object. How about a very angry mutant with an adamantium skeleton.

Storm starts talking and my ears shut down immediately. I've heard that sermon too many times now. Teamwork, look out for each other, be careful, yadda, yadda. This is a stupid simulation. If we were in a real fight I would keep an eye on most of these people because no matter how much they train with their little gadgets, they don't know jack about real fighting. There's only two people in here I'd love to watch getting beat up good. Not killed. Maybe just beaten beyond repair, losing a limb or two. Unfortunately I'm not allowed to do that myself unless I want to run very fast and very far away. Or wear pink ribbons.

_How would you put it? Damn straight. Logan, I need to see you after this session is over. There is a mission we need to talk about._

I hope it can wait until tomorrow. There's someone I need to have breakfast with. And I swear I can hear Chuck smile.

"So everybody, let's get to the warming up. The usual pairs, and since Kurt left us today, you will pair up with Logan, Bobby."

Barely holding back a wide grin I strongly suspect that this is what a kid feels like when Santa brings him the latest Playstation. Walking over to the little prick I see him change. Well, I sense it at least. From angry to... well, he is still a little pissed off but that has to be the old grudge on the good looking older man his girlfriend was more in love with than him. But he is also scared and that is very good.

And now I grin.

"Bring it on. Babycakes."

That's all it takes. That little word sends him flying so far over the edge that all you can see is a little sparkling rainbow marking his path. I've never seen this kid so angry and he found Rogue sleeping in my bed once back when they were still together. But that was before he has started with the steroids.

"I will show you how a good doggy has to behave you fucking mutt."

And before Storm has given the signal for us to start it gets really, really cold around me.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Unfortunately the simulation couldn't take place today because two idiots fought for over an hour and had to be separated by Chuck and his mental torture. One of them is in the torture chambers downstairs with Hank right now who is tending to a broken nose and a few ribs, not to mention the pretty colorful bruises.

He called me a dog among other things. I could have lived with that easily. That is something people do when they know they don't have a fraction of a chance, they try to insult you and hope you get angry enough to make a mistake. But then he insulted Marie and I will not have that.

Bad for him that I don't make mistakes when I'm angry.

I just talked over the mission with Chuck and I will leave tomorrow afternoon. He knows I won't accept anyone as backup and he also knows I will not sit over building plans longer than I have to, but he also knows I will get the job done.

So here I am, in a car for once. It was a tough choice, but in the end I chose to leave Babycake's spiffy Porsche right where it was. Ice blue just ain't my color.

The only problem I have right now, aside from traffic, someone a few cars ahead must've died behind the wheel judging by the slow pace we're crawling down a fucking highway, well, the only problem I have right now is to decide what to do.

First I should decide if I even want anything to happen. I mean not that I don't want to, but do I? Will I listen to that damn thing inside my head telling me to to shut the fuck up and get the girl or do I listen to that little whiny idiot that keeps telling me she will wind up dead just like everyone else. If I do decide to finally kill off the latter, what then. I hate flirting, beating around the bush, I hate all that crap most women expect you to do. I prefer a more direct approach, one that will have most women shriek and slap you in the face.

First of all Marie isn't most women. And we've known each other for years now, well, we haven't seen each other in years, but still. Counts for something, right?

I turn on the radio because sometimes it works like some oracle. Sometimes, when you're trying to decide what to do and you turn on the radio it gives you an answer. Sounds silly and I'd laugh at anyone who'd say it out loud, but it worked a few times before.

_What a wicked thing to do  
To make me dream of you  
And I don't wanna fall in love _

_[Cris Isaac-Wicked Game]_

I groan and switch stations. That guy sounds like he dropped something heavy on his foot.

_Oh if you could read my mind  
You'd know you're everything I need  
You'd see yourself through my eyes  
You may understand what I'm going through  
Just how much I want you._

_Show me what its like to lose control  
Free the desire in your soul  
Oh oh let me love you. _

_[Tim McGraw-Let me Love you]_

I growl and try to keep my claws where they are, I don't even know who this truck belongs to, so wrecking the stereo probably isn't a very good idea. Okay, one last try.

_You've already won me over in spite of me  
And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet  
And don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are  
I couldn't help it  
It's all your fault _

_[Alanis Morisette-Hand over Feet]_

Now this goes to show that this was a stupid idea. I switch the channel again, I never liked that woman anyway. Some people think that just because I'm Canadian I like all the music they crap out up there but how many Americans like everything just because it's... Well, forget it.

Another country station and after that the radio fails me completely and all I hear is static until I pull into a parking spot right in front of the apartment building. But instead of getting out I light a cigar. Maybe I should flip a coin.


	11. Down with the sickness

**Hello there, party people.**

**Yes, it is almost three am. I am on meds, terribly sick and I want my own Logan. No wait, backtrack to the word sick…. and I had a few beers in celebration of stuff. Read some good fics. That is one valid reason to celebrate. Also the fact that I did find my inspiration again. It was under the couch, in between some old newspapers, candy wrappers and dust bunnies. Right under the Australia DVD I keep there for emergencies. Don't ask. I haven't mentioned my very important kidnapping suitcase on purpose. That is classified information I will share with only a few choice nutcases like me that share my unhealthy interest in everything Hugh Jackman.**

**Thank you for being so patient, life has been hell of a ride once more. But my bunny Logan is still alive and happy, he will move into a new home outside soon with one or two friends-I am still looking for the perfect companion. Which means a bunny that looks like Rogue, we will settle for no less.**

**And thanks to my boss who makes me come to work relatively late so he gets to sleep in and have breakfast. When I'm too early I can either have breakfast with him or do whatever I please. So I wrote this chapter by hand, typed it up just now so it is all fresh.**

**Surprise. This story isn't over just yet. Had an idea that made me take another road, this is what happens when I plan something. You can still review this chapter, it does not hurt. Quite the opposite, it could inspire me to draw this story out even further :P**

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I have no idea how long I've been sitting in this damn truck, all I know is that I'm at a point where I have to make fun of myself, punch myself repeatedly, get the girl or leave forever. I do enjoy making fun of others-not myself. I heal but that doesn't mean I enjoy the pain. And I just came here, after a few years of being… well, gone. And all these options also mean handing over my balls and I am about as attached to them as they are to me. Enough for the pep talk, I'll just go up there and see what happens.

I can't pinpoint the exact moment, but at some point the Wolverine has turned into a giant wuss. Maybe it's the tight jeans and all the motorcycle riding, I don't know. I'd blame it on too much time spent in Scooter's company, but talking about the deceased like that ain't considered very nice, even by my standards.

As I climb gracefully out of the truck my eyes shoot up automatically. Gotcha, old hag. There is a hint of a grin on her face, she didn't even try to hide this time. That yappy little furball of hers is busy spraying spit all over the glass he's barking so hard. Would make a nice slipper that one. But you'd need another and I highly doubt Marie would appreciate the gift. Sticking her foot up a former lap dog's ass to keep her feet warm ain't something I picture her doing. Falling asleep in my arms after a round or two of fun in her bed, in my arms, now that I can see happening.

And here I go again, wussing out.

The hall smells like old lady, wet dog, soup and Marie. And sick. The way a sick person's breath sometimes smells to those without heightened sense of smell, only amplified. Before I can get my hopes up that Mrs. Purple Hair is dying of pneumonia I hear Marie cough hard, followed by a terrible retching sound.

Oh shit.

It would be easier for me if a dozen mutant assassins were attacking her. Claws can fix that. They can't do anything against germs, not even if they are made from the finest adamantium.

Before I made up my mind weather I should walk up to her door or not, the door right next to me opens and old lady shuffles out, holding a suspicious looking little pot in her old hands. When she sees me she smiles that thin lipped old lady smile that never fails to creep me out. She continues to shuffle across the hall for about three paces, then apparently makes up her mind and turns around to shuffle over to me. She extends her arms with that little pot, surprise, there are flowers on it.

"Here, warm that up for her, it will do her good. Just like your company, you do her good. Unlike that little prick she so rightfully beat the other night."

I like that old woman, though she really looks like an old, dried up peach.

"You are not like him at all, I can see that. And you have been here so often and haven't laid your hands on her. You are decent, unlike that other man. You know, I can tell you haven't, because she really is a loud one. You are in for a treat."

With a chuckle she shuffles back into her apartment and leaves me doubting my sanity.

"But so is she, Mr. Fusspot. That man out there isn't one you should scare away, because mommy might be old but she likes looking at fine young men in tight jeans. Has a motorcycle, too. Reminds me of my dear Hugh, may he rest in peace…"

And her voice gets muffled, must have walked into another room soundproofed by needlepoint and quilted everythings. Okay, now she is definitely back to creepy again.

Marie's door opens and she peeks out, finding me in the hallway, probably pretty pale, holding a little flowery pot with chicken soup and my jaw somewhere on the floor.

"I thought I smelled you, but with my nose all plugged up I wasn't too sure. Your senses are wearing off again. Come in!"

She looks sick, too. Eyes swollen, nose red, pale, a little sweaty.

She'd still beat any competition by miles, at least in my book. Which is the only one that counts, really. Or else.

"What is that in your hands?"

"Old lady next door gave me some soup for ya. Go lie down, I'll warm it up for you."

Maybe I can find a frilly apron somewhere to underline my newfound wussyness. I behave like Scooter. Sorry pal. Go on resting in peace.

I pour some of the soup into a microwave safe bowl, I have learned my lesson, and heat it. After that I take out another bowl because this one is too hot. I don't want to add blisters to the list of her maladies. This is not about me going soft. I have to take care of my… mate. Usually I fight against being seen as an animal, but seeing that the other choice would depict me as a complete wuss it is the lesser evil, definitely. And the smile I get when I bring her the soup definitely makes up for everything.

"Thanks Logan. But I'm not really hungry."

"Don't make me hold you down and force feed you!" I growl.

See. A wuss would have whined. I growl. Still got it. She starts to eat, tentatively, but it is something. There are all kinds of vegetables in there, I gave it a little sniff to check for hazards before I gave it to her. Relatively harmless. Of course you should never underestimate celery. That stuff is disgusting. Who in their right mind eats that on their own, free will?

"Okay, really. Uncle. I can't eat any more."

I sit on the edge of her bed and lean forward to check the bowl. Ate half of it, good.

"Alright, you can eat the rest later."

She moans. It's just not what I envisioned originally. It contained her in her bed and lots of moaning. But no soup and heaps of tissues.

"You don't have to stay Logan. I feel like crap and I'm sure I look like it, too."

If I were a real pansy I'd start to write poems about the beauty of her chafed nose right about now. I am not.

"You promised me a decent breakfast, you can't get out of that just because you're a little under the weather. Besides, your nose makes a great night light."

She giggles and I feel a little better. To make her feel better in return I haul over her TV from the living room, get myself a beer from the fridge and sit down on the bed next to her to settle for an evening filled with movies from her collection. She slides over instantly so I take off my boots and prop my feet up, curling an arm around her because she is sick after all, she needs this now. And it is not like I don't enjoy it, too.

Half way through a movie with lots of cars, chases and explosions she coughs so hard I am afraid her head will explode. Her face still red she drives her fist into the mattress.

"Damn cold. It should be illegal!"

I can't help it, that was funny. I try to hold back the laughter-only partially successful because I snort. She turns her head sideways to glare at me, which is about as frightening as a hissing kitten.

"Don't make fun of me or I'll drain you, Logan."

"Go ahead, try it. It will get rid of the cold, too."

"I am not using you as my personal medicine cabinet, Logan."

As much as that flatters me, this is stupid. But I know her and her stubbornness, there is no way I can argue around that. So I shut my mouth, watch the movie and play with a strand of her hair that happens to trail down my arm. Her head is now resting on my chest and her breathing slows down again. Could get used to this.

"Logan?"

Her voice sounds sleepy, too.

"Yeah?"

"Don't sleep on the couch tonight."

"You sure? You could end up as shish kabob."

"Well, in that case you can be my personal medicine cabinet."

So we got that settled then. Maybe I should stab her on purpose. I know it is kind of harsh, but it is for a good cause. She wouldn't be sick after that. Then again, she would see my thoughts, too. More than she has during that brief thing when I got rid of her hangover. And I am not sure I want her to see the new wuss in me.

"And don't worry, I have my skin under control when I sleep. Mostly. I won't drain you completely, if anything happens at all it would be like when I took a little. Just a little buzz."

To be honest, that was very low on my list of worries. It just now dawned on me that sleeping in her bed with her consent is an entirely different story than falling asleep watching TV on the couch with her. So I mull over that while the movie goes on, more cars explode and people shoot each other. I listen to her soft breaths and keep playing with that strand of hair. When I am sure she is really deep asleep I lift my free hand carefully up to her face and trace my index finer down her jaw line. Nothing happens. I venture down her throat and up again. Nothing. I stub her nose with it, just slightly, and she smiles. Across her cheek and down to her lips, she is still smiling and now I can feel it, the slight pull. After a few moments her breathing relaxes, the nose is free again and her body temperature goes down.

It's not like she can blame me for it the next morning. Accidental brushes while we were asleep and look at that, she is back on track again.

I pull her a little closer and make sure she is all tucked in before I reach for the remote, turn the damn TV off and close my eyes.

Yes, I could very easily get used to this. And the scary thing is… it doesn't scare me.


End file.
